With a groan, my hand hits my forehead. “How do you know they don’t suck? Then this would be all for nothing. Plus Brandon’s out here and you know how many times he’s asked me to watch him practice. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”
She snorts. “That he has a chance, when we all know he doesn’t? And also, for your information, I do my research when it comes to reporting accurate news. You, above all, know this.”
“Annnd?” I whine.
She laughs at my dramatics and shares. “Those boys weren’t lying about winning trophies for their last school. They’re talent is like NFL level and I’m going to be the first to report on it in our school paper.”
“Of course it is,” I mutter, tired of hearing how great they are. I wouldn’t expect them to be anything less than perfect.
“According to previous articles, they’re not considering sports in college at all. Athletic departments are in outrage over their brass balls to not even discuss options with various colleges,” she shares as we watch them warming up on the flawless field. It’s a benefit of being enrolled in a top-notch private school; our academy has the best equipment for everything, it seems. The schools weight room has won awards when compared to other schools. It’s a bit obnoxious, but what can you expect from a top-tier school.
Tristan and Brent’s frames are so enormous, they make a few of the other players look as small as freshman. “They probably won’t even go. They strike me as a bunch of spoiled rich brats. Maybe they’ll enroll to party and get laid, but I doubt they have med school or law school in their futures.”
She jerks me, shaking me a little. “Hey, why are you being so negative? You’re never like this. Did something happen with one of them? Every time we pass one of them they smile and say hi to you and don’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed that impressive fact either. The chicks around here are pissed that the quads give you so much more attention than any of them.”
It’s my turn to be stunned. “What? What are you talking about?”
She rolls her pretty eyes and flicks her dark hair over her shoulder. “Surely you’ve noticed...” She trails off, and I shake my head as my name’s shouted. In fact, I’ve been doing my best to not notice things about them.
We both turn to look at the stands to see who could possibly be yelling at me, and I sputter. It’s Axel waving at us. Or, I should say, he’s waving at me since he’s called my name. With a kind smile, I wave back and get elbowed in my side by my best friend.
“Bullshit! See what I mean? He hasn’t even acknowledged me. I’m telling you, the girls around here are noticing it, too, and they’re jealous.” I turn to argue with her, and she bumps me again, nodding to the field. “He’s not the only one showing you special attention either.”
I follow her chin-lift, gazing out on the field where two beefy guys are waving our way as well. With an embarrassed sigh, I wave at them in return, knowing exactly who’s big enough to fill out those uniforms. I don’t need to see their name on the backs of their jerseys to realize it’s Tristan and Brent. Not only that, but they’re drawing the attention of all the other football players as well.
“This is a nightmare,” I whisper, thinking of my plan I have set in stone. I’m supposed to be keeping my head down, studying hard and getting a scholarship, not drawing attention from the four most popular guys in school.
Sam yanks on my arm, carting me alongside the field toward the stands. When we get to the bleachers, Axel stands and greets, “Hey, Kresley.” It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t say anything to Sam, and I’d already introduced her a few times previously. The guys always see my best friend buzzing around me, so this is feeling a bit awkward at the moment—like she’s intruding.
“Hey, Axel,” I raise my hand in a wave, though it’s completely unnecessary. “You’re not playing?” I already know he’s not on the team, but it seems like the only thing I can come up with to say while his full attention is directed at me. Sam’s the talker, not me unless it’s with Brandon, then I’m a chatterbox.
“Nah, just out here watching my brothers and doing some homework. They’re my ride home,” he admits and shrugs.
I nod, mute. Apparently, I lose the ability to talk or else go directly in the opposite direction and ask personal questions.
Sam speaks up. “Oh, perfect! Kres was literally just telling me that she was planning to do the same thing. Great minds and all that.” She then directs to me, “See? Now you finally have that study partner you were just wishing for!”
I could kill her right now. I never said that and being my best friend, she knows I prefer to do my work alone unless I’m tutoring someone.
She takes it a step further, earning a sharp look from me. “This works out perfect. I had something come up. Axel, you’ll walk Kres to her car when you finish up, right? Gotta keep my bestie safe.”
His forefinger nudges the thin ebony frame of his glasses up his nose a bit as he nods. “Of course. I won’t let her walk alone. I promise to keep her safe.”
“Thanks, Axel. You’re a good guy, and we like good guys, don’t we, Kresley?” She throws a wink my way as I secretly scowl back at her. She knows me well enough to notice my nostrils flaring at her antics. “I’ll call you later.” She grins wickedly, and I have no doubt she’ll be blowing my phone up. She’ll want every detail from the moment she walked off until I make it home.
Axel leans over, holding his hand out to help me up the few stairs between us. He’s on the third row up, nothing I should be worried about falling down, but it’s sweet all in the same. I place my palm in his, not wanting to be rude and turn the kindness away. Rather than letting go right away, he holds firm, pulling my messenger bag from my shoulder. He allows me to get seated before handing it over, and I’m so flustered I can’t speak. He’s not only good-looking and smart, but obviously, he’s kind and has manners. This guy has me turning to goo in his palm, and I’ve barely sat down.
He’s still holding my hand. I don’t know if he’s realized the simple fact, but it’s the only thing I can think about. That small, intimate touch of his palm on mine has my head spinning. No matter how much I want to deny it, there’s a spark—a big one. At least for me, there is, and by the way he stares at me like he’s just as lost in me as I am in him, it makes me think he may feel it as well.
“Thank you,” I eventually manage to choke out in a whisper.
His mouth kicks up, and he nods. His gaze lowers to our hands, and his smile grows. “Sorry, it appears that I’ve held your hand hostage.”
I grin back like a giant idiot and shrug. He can keep it if he wants; I really wouldn’t mind.
The spell’s broken as Tristan shouts, “Hey, sugar plum! Watch me run this one, darling.”
With a blink to clear the haze, I peer outward to the field, watching as Brent throws a perfect spiral that Tristan easily catches and runs down for a fake touchdown. The team cheers as what appears to be a play they’ll soon be running falls in place.
“They’re good,” Axel murmurs, his thumb lightly rubbing over my knuckles.
I swallow before turning back to him. “They are. So, I heard you draw?” I change the subject to him, and his eyes light up. I’m guessing he’s used to hanging back a bit in his brother’s shadow, being they’re jocks, and he’s the smarter one. Little does he know, but I think smart is sexy.
“You were talking about me?” Axel questions and my cheeks heat with him calling me out.
I nod, and his expression turns from surprise to genuine interest. I’ve managed to catch all of their attention, and I don’t know if this is a blessing or a curse. Whatever it is, I just hope they aren’t my downfall. I have a feeling once you let them into your life, there’s no turning back, and I just opened that door wide open.
“Kresley!” My mother calls through the intercom system we have wired throughout the house. “You have a visitor.”
I’d texted Sam, but apparently, she wanted to do this face-to-face. Sh
e knows better than to just show up though. My father’s mood swings hit him out of nowhere, and God forbid something happen at work that angers him. We always feel the brunt of it, or I should say I feel the impact. I’ve tried to make it as clear as possible in the past to my best friend that she should always call me first unless it’s important—like an emergency.
Placing a bookmark in my book to mark my spot, I close it and hop off my bed. No one comes over here besides Sam or my brother’s friends, so I don’t bother checking my hair or anything before jogging through the hallway and down the stairs. My mother comes into view first, looking the epitome of picture perfection and I’m expecting her to shoot me a look of disapproval. She wants to be informed at all times whenever I’m expecting company. Being wealthy means keeping up appearances and she may have had a hair out of place or something else just as scandalous. Rather than scorn, however, I’m met with a pleased smile—the type that definitely looks calculating. I’m thinking maybe it’s Brandon now, instead of Sam.
“Mom?” I say and finally see who’s waiting around the last curve of the grand staircase. It’s definitely not anyone I’d expect to ever be stopping by. It’s also not someone I want to see outside of school hours. I think about him enough without having him cloud up more of my mind.
“Tristan?” My brow creases, wondering what on earth he’s doing here. This isn’t your typical neighborhood; we don’t ask to borrow sugar from the neighbor. If someone stops by unannounced, it’s considered extremely rude, but you’d never guess that by the smile my mother wears. You’d think that this was Georgia and she’d just invited the neighborhood over for a barbecue and a slice of pie.
He flashes a devious grin. “We have a project to discuss, remember? You’re the biology expert. I’m just you’re ever grateful subject.”
I could strangle him even if he is two or three heads taller than me and the size of a professional linebacker. I distinctly remember telling him that I wouldn’t go over to his house after school, so I guess he decided to just show up here. How wonderful, said not me—ever.
“Right,” I manage to grit free and turn to apologize to my mother. “Mom, I apologize for not informing you sooner we’d be having company. Everything seems to have not so conveniently slipped my mind.” I flash Tristan and quick glare that promises he’ll be hearing some choice words from me later when we’re out of my mother’s earshot.
“No worries, darling; I know how important studying after school is to you.” She articulates smoothly.
I nearly choke as she takes Tristan’s hand and then gives it an affectionate pat. She never speaks to me like this; she has to be up to something. In fact, I’d have to believe they both are. “The young Mr. de Lacharriere was just inviting us to have brunch with his family this Sunday. His father will be in town and wishes to meet the girl who’s caught his son’s eye.”
Gag me, this is not happening.
I’m flat-out shocked. I was surprised to see him here and then to discover my mom so chummy with him, but now this too? They have to be joking, Tristan has girls draped over him nearly all day since arriving and they’re never the same girls either. The asshole must’ve been buttering up my mother to get inside the house. She’s not going to let me live this down either. This is undoubtedly his method of payback for me turning him down, and my mother will be more than eager to go along with whatever he’s cooked up.
“We’d be obliged to host you at the club.” His sparkling, stormy orbs meet mine, almost mockingly as if this is merely a game to him and he’s made the next move. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was...but if we show up at the club on Sunday and his family really isn’t there, that embarrassment would make life more hellish around my father for the foreseeable future. He’ll already be offended somewhat to be sitting with someone so wealthy; it’ll makes our family look like peons in comparison if Sam’s information is accurate. Why has Tristan decided to play cat-and-mouse games with me and make my life more miserable? Believe it or not, but his attention is not flattering.
“Thank you, Tristan.” I offer a fake smile. I’m boiling inside, but it does the trick where my mother’s concerned.
“We’re honored,” my mother repeats, preening at the invite. She loves that stuffy club full of pretentious, uptight assholes. “I’ll make my exit and let you two visit.” She flashes me another pleased smile, and I can read it perfectly without her uttering a word. She’s commanding me to play nice whether I want to or not. So much for decking the good-looking boy in front of me, though ‘boy’ is not a term I’m sure is appropriate in his case. Tristan is massive, tall, and wide, muscles stacked with more muscles. He’s nearly the same size as Brent, though he strikes me a bit more carefree and charismatic than his serious brother.
“Seriously?” I hiss, and he steps close enough that my chest nearly brushes against him with each breath I take. I feel like I just stepped into a showdown and was handed my ass on a platter.
“Cole warned you the first day of school that we run things. You should’ve listened,” he retorts, cocky smirk fully in place. The bastard is serious about having his way and why I’ve struck his attention is completely lost on me. There’s a full team of beautiful cheerleaders or a dance team at school who’d be dying to have his attention right now. Why can’t he scurry off and go bother one of them?
“What does that have to do with anything to do with me?”
“I wanted you at my house tonight.” He leans in a touch, staring at my chest and the rest of my curvy body unashamed.
An unladylike snort escapes me. “How’s it feel to want, pretty boy?”
His mouth turns up into a grin; it’s predatory and has me swallowing some of my courage down. “You’re mine, Kresley, make no mistake. I’ll forgive you this time, but the next time I tell you to be somewhere, you listen.” I want to retort something snarky, but every thought besides Tristan de Lacharriere has seemed to have left my mind at the moment. His straightforward gaze pinned on me morphs into something resembling a jealous glower and my body shivers at his intensity, my stomach flip-flopping.
Bending closer, his lips lightly graze the lobe of my ear as he gravely rasps, “Keep your legs closed, Kres. I want my future wife untouched.”
Drawing in a quick breath, my mind spins at his words. He can’t be serious. With the parting look he flashes, I can’t help but believe that he’s dead serious. It can’t be right; he’s barely met me...I’m nobody in his world. What could he possibly want with me?
The rest of the week passes quickly without much happening thankfully, and it’s enough to make me think Tristan has forgotten about me after all. We still sit next to each other in our shared biology class, but he’s seemed to have backed off. One thing I have noticed, though, is that he hasn’t had many girls hanging off of him like the first week of school. Don’t get me wrong, there have been girls swarming him, but the only time I’ve caught any of them touching him is when he didn’t notice me watching him. Could he have a change of heart toward the female population already and be serious about being interested in me?
Axel, on the other hand, is quickly becoming my new study partner. He’s basically a genius, I’ve discovered. I seriously doubt he needs my help at all. If anything, I hold him back. He seems to enjoy helping me, though, and I’ve found that cramming with him has made the work seem less challenging and overwhelming. I want the best grades as possible for that scholarship and being around someone so smart is a bit inspiring. Not only that, but Axel is genuinely kind. He’s sincere, sweet, and not self-centered. I find myself looking for him whenever I’m in the halls to wave a quick hello and see how his day’s going. Now, he’s one brother whose attention I could get used to having, not that I need to complicate things when I have a plan to stick to.
Another bonus when it comes to him is that girls aren’t so forward all the time, acting desperate for his attention. Sure he’s just as gorgeous as his brothers, but he’s not the “in your face” gorgeous like the othe
rs so easily seem to be. Axel hides his calm, ashen irises behind his square-ish raven-framed Clark Kent glasses and his quiet, shy demeanor doesn’t easily draw girls in. If anything, I’m sure most of the school thinks he’s stuck up, but if you get to know him, you’ll discover that isn’t the case at all. He’s muscular in his own sense, but more on the long and lean side versus his bulky brothers. He’s lifted my messenger bag full of books before and I’ve seen his biceps flex with the motion, so I know he’s hiding so much more under his bland navy and black academy uniform. I try not to go around thinking of my classmate’s body, yet I find myself gazing at him and wondering if he has a six pack under his finely-pressed, dark blue button-up shirt.
Sunday rolls around, and I find myself on the way to the infamous club. I’m off to have brunch with Tristan and whoever else decides to join from his family. Part of me is terrified they won’t show up. I’d put the brunch to the back of my mind, distracted with the day-to-day routine, but then yesterday my mother insisted we go shopping and get mani’s and pedi’s. She’s still lecturing me as we pull up to the gates leading into the prestigious club my father often enjoys visiting. I’d taken golf lessons here when I was younger but found it to be incredibly boring. I never understood how my father found so much enjoyment out of something as mundane as golfing.
“This is how futures are decided, Kresley,” my mother chides accordingly, and I turn off to the side, rolling my eyes.
“There’s nothing going on like that between Tristan and me. I’ve told you that already; this meeting doesn’t make any sense,” I argue even though I don’t want to irritate my father. I need her to understand that this brunch isn’t going anywhere now nor in the future.
“Nonsense,” she huffs and bulldozes on. “His father wouldn’t have requested brunch if there wasn’t an impending engagement to be discussed.”
Little White Lies: Reverse Harem/Bully/High School (Harvard Academy Elite Book 1) Page 5
